Spotting scarlet Macaws in the Amazon and watching the sun rise over Machu Picchu may be the stuff of adventure travel fantasies, but you haven’t really lived (or perhaps, appreciated living) until you’ve had 220 Volts of electricity running through your left arm.
That’s what happened to me when I failed to understand the instructions on the adapter kit that allows us to convert the energy in our hotel rooms to a form that won’t blow up our cameras and laptop when we charge them. With one half of the adapter sitting tentatively in the socket, I thoughtlessly pushed it all the way in the flat part of my palm, not realizing that by doing so, I was completing the circuit that would send lightening bolts of power straight into my body.
In the space of about 14 nanoseconds, I screeched so loud that Jen and Hol thought I’d been bitten by rat, yanked my hand from the wall and dove atop the bed across the room from where they sat. I looked down at my palm, fully expecting to see the kind of char marks that you’d find on a Burger King whopper, but my hand only suffered the indignity of being attached to such a mentally challenged owner.
AP
